Thing 286 Spinning Class

The Doctor told me that he's nearly certain that I didn't have a heart attack. I'm not kidding you. This isn't my usual brand of self-deprecating humour. Doctor's exact words:"I'm nearly certain that you didn't have a heart attack".

Two things wrong with that sentence. 1: I'm twenty six, not sixty-six. There shouldn't even be a hint of a suggestion of a heart attack. There should be no late visits to the on-call Doctor to figure out what this searing pain in my chest is. TWENTY SIX. And I'm not even that fat, despite what the rest of the clowns that I hang around with try to tell you.

2: "Nearly certain"? Honestly, that's the least reassuring thing a Doctor has ever said. Nearly certain. Bah. How many times did they cover that in medical school. Top of the agenda is to discover if the patient is sick. As long as you're nearly sure they're not, you can let it slide. Nearly certain I didn't have a heart-attack is like being nearly certain that you're gun isn't loaded when you let a child play with it. It just doesn't seem to cut it really...

Nearly certain. Double bah.

I went to the spinning class with Token Northy. For the uninitiated, like I was, it's an intensive exercise class that last half an hour and involved varying degrees of intense cycling followed by breaks of slower cycling. Sounds easy right? I dare you. I double dare you to try it for yourself. It's intense. I'm nearly certain that Token Northy deliberately cajoled me into this one in the hope of watching me pass out from over exercising.

I lasted somewhere between seven and ten minutes. Then the pain in my head kicked in. Quickly followed by dizziness. Sometimes I can be a stubborn ass, refuse to lose and all that. Not this time. I jumped off the saddle and bolted for a bathroom. I didn't get sick though. Instead I got this shocking pain in both sides of my chest, high up near my shoulders and a sensation of pressure, squeezing down on the centre of my chest, like someone was trying to crush me.

I sat down to catch my breath, which was coming in short, ragged gasps. I decided it would be best to call it a day and go home and get ready for my night shift. The scary bit is that it didn't go away. I was driving home with the stinging pain and this awful sense of pressure squeezing my chest. I got a little nervous... Called up the one person you have to call when disaster strikes... my mam. She gave me the on-call Doctor near my house. Called him up...

"Mr Mooney, I'm a little concerned that you may be having a heart-attack..." You're a little concerned? Imagine how I feel buddy. After a little row about where I go next (I'm no great fan of hospitals) it's decided that I'm to go home and take two Panadol. In retrospect, this is the most ridiculous conversation I've ever had. The doctor is trying to warn me about potential heart-failure and I'm arguing him down to two Panadol and a lie down on the couch.

One way or another, it improved. I felt better after about half an hour from the time I took the painkillers. So I called him to tell him and he insisted that I go to see him before work. Quick check to see if it was muscular pain, which it wasn't and a serious reprimand about how much I'm smoking and I'm on my way. But not before he tells me that he's "nearly certain" that I didn't have a heart attack. Thanks dude.

Token Northy and Lady Northy can take their Spinning Class and stick it somewhere unpleasant... Sorry guys, it's not their fault that I'm doomed long before my time...

That's the end of the smokes for me eh? Still though, makes for a good story... I'll die for this Project yet I tell you!!